


The Chronicler at Work

by YetAnotherPersona



Series: Mask of Light: deleted scenes [1]
Category: Bionicle - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Mid-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25315390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YetAnotherPersona/pseuds/YetAnotherPersona
Summary: Every village will claim to be home to the bravest warriors, the most cunning hunters, and the most talented Kolhii players. But across the whole of Mata Nui, everybody agrees: when it comes to storytelling, there’s no match for Takua the Chronicler.And now the Great Spirit has bestowed upon Takua a great and noble destiny. So why, Jaller wonders, does the pride and joy of Ta-Koro so adamantly refuse to accept it?
Series: Mask of Light: deleted scenes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848085
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	The Chronicler at Work

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place during Mask of Light, the day before Takua and Jaller leave on their quest.

Toa Tahu is pointing at Jaller.

This kind of thing seems to happen a lot, Jaller reflects. He’s been a favourite of Tahu for a long time – always commended for his courage and leadership as captain of the guard, always praised for his dedication to the three virtues. Sometimes he’s able to enjoy it, but after his lacklustre performance at today’s Kolhii match he’d be very happy to fade into the background and let the newly-discovered mask be the centre of attention. But even now he finds himself singled out by his Toa, thrust back into the limelight against his will.

“The mask threw all its light upon one Matoran: Jaller,” Tahu says dramatically. “He must be the herald of the seventh Toa.”

Jaller raises his hands defensively. “But I didn’t –” He turns to Takua and hisses, “Tell them the truth. Say something!”

“I... I do say something,” Takua responds. “I say...”

For a moment Jaller thinks everything might be alright. But then he spots the glint in Takua’s eye. It’s the one he gets when he’s about to upend a familiar story with some new twist halfway through the telling; hit his audience with a curveball that’ll keep them talking for weeks. Before Jaller can stop him, he punches the air and cries so loud that not a single person in the temple can miss it:

“Hail Jaller, all hail Jaller! Herald of the seventh Toa!”

Jaller spins in panic to face the gathered Matoran as they take up the call, filling the temple with echoes of “Hail Jaller! Hail Jaller!” The Toa join in; so do the Turaga up on the dais.

Jaller turns to look at Takua again, shaking his head frantically. “ _You cannot_ _do this to me,_ ” he scream-whispers, certain that everyone must be able to hear him. “ _You_ have to be the herald...”

Takua just stares back blankly, as though his hands are tied, as though he didn’t just conjure up this whole sign-of-the-chosen-one farce off the top of his head at the stadium –

“Captain of the guard,” Turaga Vakama says solemnly, “approach.”

Jaller clenches his jaw and looks up at the three elders. “Takua...” he mumbles.

“Go on,” Takua prompts, nudging Jaller forward. Jaller flings a dirty look back at him as he steps forward, but Takua just shrugs.

Vakama descends the stairs and offers the mask to Jaller. “It seems the mask of light has chosen you,” he intones, pride and encouragement radiating from his face. “Will you seek the seventh toa?”

“I –” Jaller has no intention of fulfilling Takua’s destiny for him, but only a fool would turn down a request like this from his own Turaga. “I will. Aaand...” he reaches out to grab Takua’s shoulder before he can creep away “...Takua, the Chronicler, has volunteered to join me!”

His ploy feels embarrassingly transparent, especially compared to Takua’a own machinations, but it works – the announcement draws another cheer from the gathered Matoran.

Turaga Vakama must understand what’s going on as well, because he doesn’t question either of them. He simply raises his staff and smiles at Takua.

“Perfect. While Jaller makes history, you will record it. Soon, we will have another great chapter to add to our wall.”

The crowd parts, clearing the path to the temple’s exit. The two Matoran turn to leave, their Turaga close behind.

“Yes, Turaga,” Takua says cheerfully. “It will be full of _Jaller’s_ brave deeds.”

He places a hand on his companion’s shoulder; Jaller just sighs.

* * *

The festivities go on deep into the night. The gathering of three tribes for a Kolhii match is cause enough for mayhem and revelry, even without an announcement as momentous as that of a seventh Toa. The crushing defeat of the home team puts a slight damper on things – no pun intended – for the first hour or so, but the night is still young when the residents of Ga-Koro, Po-Koro and Ta-Koro alike put aside their enmity, celebrating in an show of congenial unity that almost makes up for the many derelictions of duty that will surely take place.

Takua, for his part, is up in front of one of the big fire-pits, regaling the crowd with old favourites about the exploits of the Toa Nuva and the Ta-Koro guards. Watching him, Jaller is amazed at how shamelessly he’s able to stand and speak in front of his audience. After today’s match, Jaller would have preferred not to show his face in public for at least the next week – and he wasn’t even the one who hurled a ball into the stands so hard it would have shattered Turaga Vakama’s mask if he hadn’t ducked. But there Takua is nonetheless: his eyes bright, his voice loud, recounting the tale of Toa Tahu’s battle against a mutant Bohrok for his captivated audience. His hands operate two shadow-puppets in front of the fire, casting ghostly images of the story’s events on the village wall behind him. Off to one side, a freshly-enlisted Po-Matoran operates an unfamiliar device best described as a giant metal basin full of rocks. Jaller can’t immediately tell how it’s supposed to serve the story.

“...And Toa Tahu turned and stared down the crazed, vicious Bohrok as it advanced on him down the length of the valley. The beast stood between him and his sword, leaving him unarmed except for the great hau – and even its shielding power could not protect him and the fearful Matoran forever...

Takua lets go of the Bohrok puppet for a moment and raises his hand in a fist behind the likeness of Toa Tahu, the shadows of his knuckles simulating a group of huddled Matoran. There’s gasps from the audience as he speaks; everyone is on tenterhooks, wondering how the Toa of fire will escape, how he’ll keep his people safe...

Takua’s assistant picks two rocks from the basin and taps them rhythmically against the rim, and now Jaller understands what the instrument is for – the sound is exactly like that of heavy footfalls on stone.

“...But even without a weapon,” Takua continues, “without backup, with nowhere to run, the valiant Toa Tahu, ready to defend his Matoran even to the death, planted his feet on the ground, raised his fists, and beckoned the monster towards him. He stood his ground as it began to charge, its feet thundering on the rocky ground...

The Po-Matoran casts the rocks back into the basin and rattles the whole thing, transforming the footsteps into a steady roar that slowly builds beneath Takua’s narration...

“Faster and faster the Bohrok ran, malice in its eyes, pincers wide, jaws gaping, itching to crush Toa Tahu’s under its feet, tear the bodies of the Matoran to pieces with its fangs...

“...when suddenly, with a terrible rumble and a crunch of shattering stone –”

“Pohatu!” yells a Matoran in the crowd, unable to contain their excitement.

“Yes!” cries Takua, holding up a hand to catch a rock thrown by his assistant without missing a beat. “The bold and powerful spirit of stone, Toa Pohatu, who had concealed himself in the crags on the mountainside, saw his opportunity. Channelling his elemental powers, he dug his clawed blade into the rock and cut loose an avalanche of boulders that tumbled into the valley, blocking the path of the Bohrok and forcing it so skid to a halt and rear, enraged...

The rattling of stones in the basin grows so loud that Takua has to shout to be heard over them...

“And then the largest of the boulders,” Takua cries, holding the rock high in one hand, the Bohrok puppet low in the other, “cunningly aimed by Toa Pohatu during Toa Tahu’s diversion, tumbled into the valley and struck the skull of the vicious Bohrok, shattering its armour and knocking. It. Dead!” He brings the rock down on the Bohrok puppet, splintering it in his hands, and flings the pieces into the fire in front of him.

The crowd erupts into cheers so loud that you’d think they’d just watched Takua slay the beast with his own two hands. He calls his assistant to centre-stage and the two take a bow together. Jaller applauds politely, smiling in spite of himself.

The assistant returns to his post as the audience shouts requests for another story. Takua listens intently and singles out one Ga-Matoran’s suggestion. “Did I hear _Gali and Lewa in the toxic marshes?_ ” he asks.

There’s a cheer of affirmation. Takua nods, satisfied, and begins. “Gathered friends...”

The start of a new story draws in several passers-by but loses the interest of a few existing audience members. Jaller takes the opportunity to peel off from the group, and walks away on his own.

Takua has always been an enigma. Nobody could doubt his love for his fellow Matoran – he’s popular, friendly, loves to entertain, and has made countless invaluable discoveries across the island that he’s always happy to share. He’s not a coward, either – he regularly fords magma-rivers nobody else would glance at just to check out the rock formations on the other side. And he certainly isn’t uncomfortable being the centre of attention – in fact he seems desperate to make his whole life a spectacle. Jaller privately reckons Takua’s just as satisfied with his botched Kolhii stunt today as he would have been had it succeeded. All that matters to him is that people will remember it.

Takua’s not selfish; he doesn’t dislike adventure; and he _definitely_ isn’t afraid of hogging the limelight. So why, _why_ does he refuse to even acknowledge that he could be a destined hero?

Jaller abandons the festivities and skulks around the Northern guard towers that flank the village gates, wondering if he can call it a night yet. As one of today’s Kolhii players, and as the newly anointed Herald of the Seventh Toa, he’d be considered rude if he didn’t at least put in an appearance at the after-party. Even more so given that it’s doubling as a farewell celebration for his own quest. But he’s never been one for these kinds of off-the-wall events. They’re the opposite of everything he loves about being in the guard: there’s no structure, no plan, and no guidelines for how to interact with anyone else there. That kind of chaos is what Takua thrives on – it gives him room to be as brash and unpredictable as he wants without risking getting his head bitten off – but for Jaller it’s just exhausting.

On top of that, Jaller feels guilty about being here in the first place. Agni, his second-in-command, has already had to cover several of his guard shifts – including tonight’s – so that he can attend practice. And now, just when Jaller had hoped to be able to make up for the string of absences, he’s instead running off on a quest that isn’t even his, saddling poor Agni with the role of Captain indefinitely.

Or is it Jaller’s quest? Takua’s narrative is so compelling that Jaller’s anxious mind second-guesses itself. Maybe the mask really did choose him; maybe it cast its light on his face without Takua’s help. It’s a perfect story: the brave, dedicated Captain of the Guard, too humble to accept his noble destiny, is nonetheless recognised by the Great Spirit and rewarded with a key role in his plan...

But no. Takua found the mask, and it was only in Takua’s hands that it glowed. The Chronicler is an excellent storyteller – he might even have taken in the Turaga – but Jaller knows the truth. Sooner or later, Takua will have to stop weaving tales and dodging responsibility, and take his destiny into his own hands.

Jaller decides he’s stayed out long enough. He’s stood and waved next to Takua, congratulated the opposing teams and their Turaga, and made small talk with all the other attendees who really matter. Takua may be happy to stay up all night telling stories, but somebody needs to be well-rested when they set off tomorrow. There’s only one more person Jaller really can’t leave without saying goodbye to.

He lets himself into the guard tower and stomps up the stairs. He doesn’t need to look far; Agni is just a few bio away, looking out from the parapet.

“Hi,” Jaller mumbles as he approaches.

“Good evening, Captain!” Agni leaps into a stiff salute and Jaller hesitates, taking the act seriously for a split-second. Then Agni relaxes, and both Matoran laugh.

“Turning in for the night already, huh?” Agni asks. “I thought you might want to enjoy your own party a little longer."

“I should, I know...” Jaller sighs. “But it’s not really my element. Besides, Ga-Koro are the winners – it’s their party more than anything.”

Agni studies Jaller’s face for a moment. “Come on, Jaller. This isn’t just about the Kolhii. You’re leaving on a quest tomorrow; possibly the most important one in our lifetimes. You might not see Ta-Koro for a while.”

“Yeah...” Jaller admits. “I don’t know, Agni. I’m just not good at this kind of thing. Besides, Takua’s putting on enough of a show for both of us, don’t you think?”

He gestures to the crowd thronging around the fire-pit below. A Ga-Matoran is helping Takua now – throwing pitchers of water onto the fire to create roiling clouds of steam that spread over the audience’s head like mist in a swamp.

Agni laughs. “This’ll be a memorable night, for sure. Nothing compared to the stories you two bring back, though, huh?”

“I hope so,” Jaller says. Then he turns back to Agni, his expression sombre. “Look after Ta-Koro for me, yeah? Keep everyone safe while I’m gone.”

“Will do, captain,” Agni assures him. “It’s you two I’m worried about, to be honest. Lotta dangerous stuff outside the village walls.”

“We’ll be fine,” Jaller assures him. “Like Tahu said, there’s been nothing new from the Makuta in years.”

“Still, Agni says. “I can’t imagine he’d allow the seventh Toa to arrive without putting up a fight. But that’s what we train for, right?” He slaps Jaller on the back.

The two Matoran stand and look down on the crowd below for a few more minutes. Takua finishes his story with a dramatic percussion accompaniment and takes a bow amid thunderous cheers.

“I ought to get back to my watch,” Agni says. “Don’t want Turaga Vakama to catch me slacking.”

“Yeah. I’ll head down now,” Jaller says. He offers his closed fist to Agni. “Goodbye for now, brother.”

“Goodbye, brother,” Agni responds, lifting his own fist to meet his comrade’s. “May Mata Nui light your path.”

“And may he always protect your home,” Jaller answers. With that, he returns to the tower and heads back down the stairs.

As much as he wishes Takua would take responsibility for once, and as much as he hates to leave his home behind, Jaller is glad his friend won’t be making this journey alone. If, Mata Nui forbid, the Makuta does send some menace of his to intercept the real Herald, at least he’ll have Jaller there for backup. And as long as the two of them stick together, and follow the mask’s lead, surely they’ll still find the seventh Toa in the end?

Still... if Takua is happy to ignore a sign as clear as this one, and cast Jaller in the role chosen for him, what will it take for him to finally accept his destiny? How long will the Matoran have to wait for their Toa of Light? If there’s one thing the Turaga’s stories make abundantly clear, it’s that fulfilling the will of the Great Spirit is never easy. This journey is going to be demanding at the very least – if Takua doesn’t rise to the challenge, it may prove impossible.

Jaller needs some sleep. He skirts round the crowd (Takua is still in full flow) and heads for the centre of the village. He considers returning and ordering Takua to get an early night as well, but decides against it. After all, this could be the Chronicler’s last chance at storytelling for quite some time. Tomorrow, his own story will begin.


End file.
